


Seeing Red

by orphan_account



Category: Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Mario Bros. (Video Games)
Genre: Anger, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A young woman's life is changed when she clogs a toilet. When she discovers she is spiritually linked with Mario, of all characters, they resolve to find a way back to his homeland while maintaining the appearance of a regular college student living her day-to-day life.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Pipe Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> I am unable to prove it as of right now thanks to FFN glitching out and hiding story and profile updates, but I used to write this and my other fic, I Don't Wanna Be a Hero, under the names The-Wandering-Fanfic-Writer (Formerly Goat in the Sewer) and StraightOffTheMap.

I shivered as I stood amidst the chaos. The water coming from the toilet refused to let up. It already reached my ankles and snaked out into the hallway beyond my bathroom. I held on to a plunger, which had suddenly become useless in this boss fight. Who knew why I still held on to it? 

My cat, Tabitha, froze up at the sight. She decided to break in and lounge on the laundry basket across from the sink while I did my business. Then my arm went up, bumped into Father’s loose toothbrush, and said toothbrush went and fell into the toilet as it flushed. This left Tabitha studying the new pond my mistake created before she backed against the wall. 

I would have rushed off to call a plumber if I were sane enough. Instead, my mouth fell gaping open. I just stared at the water, struggling to comprehend my stupidity. 

Father would have killed me if he were here. A lot of things around the house had broken down in these past few years. First, the dishwasher sputtered out, then the basement dryer shut down, then springs came popping out of my mattress, then… I lost track after our last TV kicked the bucket last year. Now he would have to waste even more money to get _this_ problem fixed.

A pencil dangled from my left ear. It threatened to join Father’s wayward toothbrush in the toilet. My body refused to move with my racing mind to save it. 

Tabitha mewed as if to say, _“You messed up, Sam. Game over.”_ She bounced over to the sink.

I blinked between her and the flood. It had risen another inch. I cringed at it stinging my bare feet. 

I felt the need to scream. And so I allowed my anger to ring through the house. "Damn it, _why?!"_

Tabitha flinched. 

The rug once stationed outside of my shower floated by me. The bathroom would become an aquarium at this rate. 

_No,_ my rational mind snapped. _There must be a way to fix this. Machines always have an off button._

 _Oh sure,_ the angrier part of me groused. _Where would this fabled off switch be?_

The water slushed around my knees. Was it just me, or was it rising faster? Maybe I spent too much time standing around? Whatever the case, I couldn’t linger here anymore. I needed to take action _now._

“Mew,” Tabitha squeaked. She must have figured out how bad our situation had become by the way she crouched in the bowl of the sink. Her ears flattened against her head. 

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t do a thing for the toilet, but my cat could use my help. So I walked over to her and moved my arms under her belly. Then I lifted her. 

Tabitha growled when her feet swung about and she found nothing solid underneath. She lurched down and sank her teeth into my shoulder. 

It stung. I gasped. A flash of pain flared up from where she bit me. 

She fell back into the sink. Her eyes narrowed. Her pure white claws unsheathed. 

Call me an idiot if you want, but I made another attempt to grab her. This time, she hissed and wriggled around. I held her as far away from me as I could. 

“Do you _want_ to get wet?” I asked her. 

She continued to struggle. I set her down at the doorway. 

“Get out of here,” I said. 

Tabitha didn’t need any further prompting from me. She took great care to avoid the stream of water coming out of the bathroom in her rush down the hallway. 

I spun around once she was gone. “Now, what am I supposed to do about—” 

I froze. Water no longer flowed from the toilet. I would consider that good news were it not for the sight before me. My breath caught in my throat and I grasped the sides of the green object that had suddenly popped into existence. 

_“A_ Mario _pipe?!”_

That couldn’t be right, could it? It looked exactly like those you would see in any of the _Super Mario_ games. It had this elongated body and a wide-open mouth. 

I rapped the pipe’s side with my fist. It hollowly rang back at me. 

There were plenty of people who wished that they were born anywhere but on Earth. I once wanted to fly through the skies on dragonback, clip-clop on a horse along a cobblestone path, climb mysterious mountains, and go on journeys with mysterious creatures at my side. But it was all poorly-written fanfiction. I forced myself to see that over the years. 

So why this? Why now? I had to worry about a thousand things to worry about nowadays. My counselors constantly insisted that I either search for a job or go on to a four-year college. I couldn’t decide which path to take, and the constant stream of mail from colleges all over the country didn’t help. What if I couldn’t stick to the path that I’ve currently chosen, which was to attend a community college? What if I dropped that path, went for the other option, and hated it as well? I would be screwed. 

A cheesy smell emitted from the pipe. I wrinkled my nose. 

This pipe _had_ to be a product of a dream. They didn’t just appear when somebody broke a toilet. Heck, if I saw one a decade ago, I definitely would have left this life behind. Who wouldn’t want to live in the Mushroom Kingdom alongside the likes of Mario, Luigi, and Princess Peach? At the same time, why give me false hope now? 

Cold air blew from the pipe alongside the cheesy smell. I stuck my face deeper into it, only to find darkness. There was no telling where I would end up if I went down it. Wind gusts blew around me and ruffled my shirt. Water drained into the hallway. 

The cat cried from somewhere deeper inside the house. Maybe her fur got all wet? It might take forever for her to dry it out. Maybe I should break out the hair—

A blur shot out of the pipe. It hit me square in the face. I stumbled backward whilst uttering a befuddled gurgle. Red swarmed my vision. My back hit a solid object, and my head with it. The nasty smack reverberated through my skull. 

I took in a shallow breath. Another chilly wind brushed by. Tremor raced through my body. 

Tabitha wailed. 

I slumped sideways and trembled. My body slid into the water. The pencil on my ear dislodged and stabbed me in the arm. My mind fogged trying to comprehend the feeling. A headache flared up. It added to my pain, which refused to go away as I blinked. 

The red blur had disappeared. I saw the green pipe still lodged in the toilet. It stayed there as I stared. Everything else around me disappeared.

* * *

White afterimages from the lightbulbs overhead burned into my eyes. My head buzzed from the knock it received from the wall. I put my hand to it and trembled like a tiny puppy. 

Two dozen streams of freezing water flowed out from beneath the toilet seat and dripped to the floor below. My gaze fell on the hole in the middle of the seat. The toilet, being a pristine white, showed no signs of that pipe having been there. I couldn’t find a _scratch_ on it. 

How could that _have_ happened? All I did was accidentally drop a toothbrush in while it flushed… 

My head throbbed. I couldn’t think about it right now. The toilet stopped overflowing. That was good enough for me, though that didn’t mean it would function as it used to. I wasn’t flushing it until somebody, _not me,_ tried it first. 

I used the closed laundry basket to help me off the ground. Where did we keep our mop? The hallway closet? This mess needed to be cleaned up before Father got home. 

I staggered into the hallway. Numerous tiny lakes formed in the absence of the river. I marched through them and ignored how my socks stuck to my feet. 

I opened the closet door at the end of the hallway. Dozens of cardboard boxes surrounded the wooden mop. Father never touched them in all of the years we lived here. From what I recall him telling me, they were full of trinkets from his childhood. I never questioned him or investigated them for myself, and I still didn’t as I snatched the broom and trekked back to the bathroom. 

And so I began the strenuous task of cleaning the floor. How could I tell Father about what happened here? If he knew, he would complain about having to waste money on a plumber. 

I moved the broom slowly across the floor. It soaked up a ton of water. I lifted it and dumped it in the sink. I dropped the broom back on the floor once I had squeezed out whatever lingered in its strings. 

This might be a stupid question, but was this even how people used brooms? A maid we called every week or two did our housecleaning. I barely recall the last time Father forced me to do chores. It must have been _years_ since the last time he made me do laundry. Call me a spoiled brat if you will... 

The toilet caught my eye. What might have happened if I went in that pipe? I would have been taken _somewhere_ if it worked like it did in Mario’s games. But where, exactly, was a total mystery. 

I sighed as my mop met the wall. God, I was _stupid._ I missed my once-in-a-lifetime chance for an adventure! I could have gone and, well, who knows what would have happened next. 

The mop met the wall again. I lifted it and moved on. Rinse, repeat. 

Maybe if I got lucky, I would have met Princess Peach. Then, as _Mario_ plots almost always demanded, she would be kidnapped. Then the Bros would go rescue her. I could have seen them in action! _Darn it!_

The mop came to an abrupt stop and jolted me out of my trance. I pulled it up again. 

That pencil I wore on my ear earlier pressed against the bathroom wall. I bent down to grab it. I had been focused on finishing my late essay for history class before the bathroom fiasco. Thinking about that essay now, I _should have_ gone down that pipe. I could use a break from college, even if it came a few weeks earlier than usual. 

My gaze fell to the floor once more. I moved the broom towards the wall, and it slipped from my grasp. It made a tiny splash in the water. 

I did a double-take where my pencil had been. The memory of the red flash played through my mind. Didn’t it occur before I hit the wall? First the pipe, and now… 

I bent down. A hat laid on the ground by the wall. A white oval over the brim allowed a red “M” to pop right out at me. The fabric of the hat scratched through my fingers when I picked it up. It felt like denim, though it didn’t seem to be the material it was made out of. I’m not a clothing expert. 

I rotated the hat to get a better view of the “M” emblem. It felt real. The pipe had been real. What other evidence did I need to prove this wasn’t a weird dream?

This wasn’t Luigi’s hat, but… Being a bit of a Super _Mario_ fan, I liked the skinnier green brother. Sure, he was a coward, but he always came through from his family and friends in the end. Heck, he could jump higher than _Jumpman._ Or, you know, his brother. Luigi’s voice is lower and more serious too. I liked that in a guy. 

The seriousness I mean. There is nothing else to that. 

What did Mario have going for him? A cardboard personality, smaller jumps that often sent me falling into bottomless pits, and a high-pitched voice of a man enjoying life even as he died in a pool of red-hot lava. How could he be so upbeat when his princess got kidnapped all of the time and always ended up being in another castle? 

Look, I didn’t hate Mario. I just felt like he never got to be a real character. The supposed star of the franchise took a backseat while everyone else stole the spotlight and won the fanbase’s hearts. 

I turned to the mirror over the toilet and sink. I cupped both sides of the hat and frowned. _It’s big._

_Of course it is. Mario has a big head. How do you expect it to fit on yours?_

_Meh._ I threw it on anyway. The brim of the hat blocked me from seeing the ceiling. My hair complemented its color despite it being a shade closer to Daisy’s than Mario’s. Stands curled around my ear and stopped at my neck. I found it best to keep it short. Long hair wasted time I could allocate to anything else on the planet. 

As much as I would hate to say it, that time could go into writing my stupid history essay. I needed to get back to my room to finish it. And, you know, maybe I should wear red more often. It looked good on me. 

But then I saw it. Something wrong with my face. Warmth. The small smile plastered on my mirror image. 

My eyebrows and mouth curved into a scowl. 

The girl in the mirror copied me. 

I glared at her as I tore the hat off. 

She glared back. 

The doorbell rang and tore us apart.

* * *

“Father!” I said with a gasp.

The tall man on the porch held a brown briefcase in one hand and a bag brimming with groceries in the other. His eyes lit up when he saw me standing in the doorway. 

“Hi, dear,” he said. “Thanks for letting me in.” He came into the house. 

I shut the door behind him. “You’re home early.” 

He set down his stuff. “All of the major roads are closed.” He chuckled. “I should have double-checked the news before heading out.” 

“You also forgot I was staying home today," I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I should've known something was up. You haven’t missed a day of college this year." He laughed some more. “Would you mind putting the groceries away? I need a nice, long shower.” 

And the shower was in… The bathroom. 

_Yeah, you idiot. It is._

_Darn it._ I _should have_ checked to see if the toilet worked first! 

“I’ll, uh, do that,” I said.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Father said. He walked off. 

I gasped for air as he rounded the corner to the bathroom. I steadied my back on the front door.

“Why,” Father said, “is the floor wet?” 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. _Darn it._ I forgot about cleaning the hallway too. “I, uh…” I said, “...Took a shower earlier.” 

“Did you forget to bring a towel again?” he asked, peeking his head out from around the corner. 

“Yeah…?” 

He lifted his arm in a shrug. “I’ll wipe it up,” he said. He returned behind the wall. “Make sure you remember next time.” 

“Okay,” I called after him. I cringed at my voice gaining a high-pitched tone. I bit my lip to stop my cringing and snatched up the grocery bag.

* * *

Our expansive kitchen didn’t fit a family of two and a cat. It belonged to us anyway. I almost walked into the dining table on one end. 

Tabitha sat on top of the table. She and I exchanged glances. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth.

I reached down to pat her on the head. “Hey.” 

She whimpered. Water dripped from her trembling fur. 

“It’s okay,” I said, “you’ll be fine.” I pulled my arm out from behind me. It held the Mario hat. “Would you mind if I left this here while I unpacked?” 

I dropped it on the table and went across the room with the bag. Then I plopped the bag down on the kitchen counter and went through the items. The milk and butter went in the fridge, Father’s pretzels belonged in the cabinet by the stove, I found a box of pasta… 

“Yes,” I muttered. Maybe we would be eating spaghetti tonight. It would be a change from the excess amount of bread Father bought last week. I could only eat so much garlic bread and grilled cheese before I got tired of it.

I worked on putting the groceries away. 

Tabitha licked her fur in the background. I could hear her grunts from the stove. 

The pretzels needed to be put away. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t inherit Father’s tall genes. My 5’2" self could barely reach the middle shelf. Leaping up got me nowhere and I found it ridiculous to climb up to them. What sane twenty-one-year-old climbed a counter? What would Father say if he walked in and saw me? 

Two dozen jars filled with spices of all kinds occupied the bottom shelf. I had no hope of squeezing the bag in with them and ended up wandering back to the kitchen table. All that had to put away now were the pretzels. Maybe it would be best for Father to figure out what to do with it? 

Tabitha stopped licking her back paw. She lowered her leg and positioned her body to get a better look at the new bag. 

“That’s not for you,” I said, reaching behind her. I felt around the hard table behind her. 

I swept my hand around in search of the Mario hat when I felt nothing. I swept around some more, and I frowned. Then I peered over Tabitha.

“What did you do with the hat?” I asked. I couldn't find it behind her, so I looked under the table. It was nowhere to be found on our dusty old floor.

My eyebrows went up. I lifted my head. That was when I saw red. A massive shelf over my eyes blocked me from being able to see the ceiling. 

I gasped and tore the hat off of my head. I could have _sworn_ I took it off. Hell, I remembered doing so. The memory was clear as day in my mind. 

My hand shook. It would be stupid to think the hat came back to me on its own. Maybe I had an episode of deja vu or didn't pay full attention when I first walked in here? Or maybe it had been sitting on my head all along? 

...Yeah. Yeah, that could be it. Still, I lowered the hat back onto the table, let it go, and turned around. The instant my eyes left the table, a little thump sounded as if Tabitha had knocked it down.

I almost jumped when I looked up and found a red rim over my head. I tore it off and stared at it. 

"No way…" I mumbled. Unsure of what else to do, I spun around and threw it away. 

The sound happened again. I turned to the table once more. 

Tabitha's ear twitched, but she didn't stop what she was doing.

I glanced up. I saw red. I saw lots of it, especially as I tore the hat off. 

"What the hell?" I said, tossing it again. I waited a moment. I looked up. 

_Red._

I threw away the hat several more times. It flattened more and more against the table like a pancake with each of my attempts. Whatever force brought it back to me never bothered to fix it. 

I might have been ten attempts in when I took it off again and glared into the "M" emblem. I sighed. 

"Sam? Where's my toothbrush?" 

I blinked. The question helped me snap back to reality. I stood in a large kitchen. Next to me was a grunting cat. I held in my hands a clingy hat. I stood dumbfounded and rooted to the spot. 

"Sam?" Father called.

"I—I have no idea!" I shouted. 

"I need it," he said. 

Oh, come on. He couldn't be brushing his teeth in the shower again. I could have sworn I told him to knock it off. I got sick of stepping on a disgusting mixture of toothpaste and spit whenever I wanted to go in for a wash. 

"Don't know," I said. "Sorry!" 

He sighed. The bathroom door slammed shut. What if he found out about the whole toilet thing? What if he already did and he was waiting to yell at me? Had he tried it yet? Maybe it would be best for me to flee before he yelled at me. 

I left Tabitha to babysit Father's pretzels and rushed through the hallway to the front entrance. Across from the door was a staircase. I made a turn on to it, reached a flight, then made a second turn into the attic room or, as I should be called, my bedroom. 

I locked the door behind me. At least Father couldn't yell at me to go to my room when I already occupied it. 

My desk was across the room from me. I jogged over to it and tossed down both the pencil on my ear and the Mario hat. I kept my eyes trained on the hat as I pulled out my armchair and tugged the string that turned on the lamp over my head. 

The hat came back no matter what I did. How could I rid myself of it? Was it cursed? Was I going to need an exorcist? _Eh…_ Maybe if I did believe in such things as demons.

* * *

_Is it cursed? Am I going to need an exorcist?_

The words echoed in his mind as he awoke. 

_I can't even concentrate on this assignment anymore. Guess it goes to show how much I don't care about getting an education._

…What?

_I should end its suffering. Just throw it out. Or, no, burn it._

Going by its slight pitched tone, the voice belonged to a girl. What was going on, though? He couldn't see anything. Everything around him was blanketed in darkness. 

_I counted five seconds. How did this thing come back that quick?_

_I'm not following,_ he thought. And he might have been able to catch on had he not lost his grip on reality. 

… 

… 

… 


	2. A Rude Awakening

I tossed my pencil away. It rolled across the papers I had been writing on before coming to a stop at my desk's edge.

"I'm getting nowhere with this," I grumbled. Maybe it was time to give up on my essay. What was the point of finishing it anymore? Our ancient Greece unit ended a long, _long_ while back. I couldn't even put my full attention on it when a giant red hat constantly fell over my eyes. 

I huffed and hurled the thing down next to the desk. The force of the impact sent the pencil toppling off the side of my desk. 

"Stay," I said. I glared at my dinner, which did end up being spaghetti with marinara sauce. 

A shelf of red hovered over me when I looked back up. I slammed the damn thing down. 

This couldn't be happening to me right now. I needed to go to college tomorrow. There was no way in hell I wanted to stick out like a sore thumb. Dennis and his friends didn't need more ammunition to use against me. 

I into the street from my window. Snow blanketed every inch of it. The storm earlier this morning hadn't been awful. I had no doubt it would be cleared up by tomorrow morning. 

The oddest idea came to me then. What if I kept the hat, but turned around? It looked stupid, sure. It was one of those old fashion trends from a decade or so back. If this thing refused to leave me alone, though, I might as well try it. 

I twisted the hat around and smirked at myself. It hung off the back of my head, but now it didn't impact my ability to see. How had I not seen the solution until now? 

I opened my eyes after this rare happy thought. 

A shelf of red greeted me once again. The hat had returned to me.

"What the actual—"

* * *

That was it. I barely got anywhere with my homework. I might as well try going to bed.

"Stay," I hissed, turning from the hat. 

And what happened as soon as I closed my eyes? I readjusted my head once and felt it brush through my hair. I heaved a heavy sigh and buried my face in my pillow

At this rate, it would be best to forget about my perfect attendance record. Or maybe I should burn the hat and my house along with it. We could be haunted for all I knew.

* * *

 _Why couldn’t he breathe?!_ He moved about, trying to find air, and he—

“Mama mia!” he gasped, pulling his head out of a pillow. He gulped for air as he looked around. He immediately took note of the darkness surrounding him. All he saw was black besides a single beam of light coming from a window on the opposite side of the room. 

Where in the world was he? The last thing he remembered was waking up to a voice grumbling to themself. But what about before that? He remembered waking up, going downstairs for breakfast, and…? 

His head throbbed. His mind drew a blank. He frowned and threw his blanket off. Maybe he was tired. Everything would fall into place once he was up and moving about. 

He got out of bed and wandered across the room. The wooden floorboards creaked under his feet. He got to a door and watched his long and skinny fingers wrap around the knob. 

Huh? Since when did he have a hand like that? He stared at his clenched fist. Was it him having this brain fog, or was his arm longer? Then there was the matter of the doorknob. He needed one glance at it to tell he towered over it. Usually, he would be level with one! 

He grabbed for his face. His fingers wrapped around his nose. He rubbed its bridge. “It’s tiny…” he mumbled. And his ‘stache? _Gone!_ “What’s going on?” 

He came to a pause. His voice verged on sounding like a squeak toy every once in a while, but it never could compare to the high tinge of a girl’s. 

His eyes ran over the rest of his body. Each of his limbs had been elongated. His middle section felt a lot flatter. Whoever’s body this belonged to, they didn’t eat as much pasta as he did. 

“Ya gotta be kidding me!” he yelped. He grabbed the doorknob and flew forward. 

A loud crash boomed down the stairs. The dislodged door flew down the steps like a sled. A crash sounded on the flight below and echoed through his eardrums. 

“...Whoops.”

So that happened, but it wasn’t his number one concern. He rushed down the steps and over the dislodged exit. When he reached the bottom, he found more light coming in through two glass panels beside another door. Two hallways extended into voids on his left. Another three led to more darkness to his right. 

Thumping. He spun to his right. 

A figure bolted from a hallway to his right. They came to a stop in front of him. Their breath reminded him of a resting chain chomp. 

“Uh… Good evening?” he said. 

An older man towered over him even with his increased height. His short brown hair and grey pajamas were all ruffled. His wild eyes landed on him. 

“Sam,” the man said, “what was that?” 

Sam? That was nowhere close to his name. He wriggled his fingers. His eyes caught bulges in his chest. He forced his gaze away before they could fixate on them. 

“Sam?” the man asked. “Are you alright?”

How could he explain this? That door seemed pretty stable before he, uh, _attacked_ it. 

“What would warrant you tearing the damn door off its hinges?” the man said. 

“Damn”. The word gave him pause. It had been a while since he heard someone utter a curse, even one as minor as “damn”. 

“I… Panicked?” I said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Another figure moved behind the guy. It meowed and laid at his feet. A cat? 

The man sighed. He made a dismissive gesture. “You know what?” he said. “It’s the middle of the night. We can deal with this tomorrow.” He started down the hallway he burst from. “Sort your priorities in the bathroom, then get back to bed. You have school tomorrow.” Once he was gone, he added, “Good night.” 

“Night!” 

The man stuck in a girl’s body was left standing around with a tabby cat staring at him. 

* * *

He found the bathroom in one of the hallways to the right of the entrance. He searched the walls for a light switch. He squinted at the light bulbs hanging from the opposite wall. Below that, he found a mirror, and he took in his new appearance. 

_I am a girl…_ he thought. The girl he inhabited the body of had short brown bedhead hair. Her blue pupils blinked at him. And unlike when he adventured the globe with Cappy, she had no ‘stache. His hat flopped over the side of her much-smaller head. 

Also, the toilet smelled like cheese. It wasn’t normal, but he had bigger problems to contend with. 

He sat down on the closed laundry basket. 

The girl blinked at him. 

It wasn’t every day that one woke up in another body. How’d he even get here? No answers popped into his mind. They refused to and drifted elsewhere. Like, was his bro okay? 

Where was Luigi? Or maybe, better question, where was _he?_ Was Luigi okay? Or, again, was _he_ okay? Or… 

Gah. He massaged his forehead. He couldn’t allow himself to be agitated by those thoughts. Wherever Luigi was, he would be fine. He had gone on plenty of adventures on his own. He even saved his bro a few times! He could fill his shoes while he figured out his new situation. 

There weren’t many humans in the Mushroom Kingdom. All he knew of living there were Princess Peach, Luigi, the professor, Wario, Waluigi, and himself. If any other humans showed up, the toads would make a big deal out of it. They always did, for some reason. Toads are easily excitable folk. 

Maybe he ended up in another kingdom, like Metro? It had a few suburbs. This girl looked a lot like the humans that came from that kingdom too. 

A digital clock ticked away by the sink. It read 12:30. Sam’s dad mentioned her having to go to school. He shrank into himself. _Oh no._

Okay, so he was twenty-four-years-old. The last time he dealt with school _might_ have ended… Well, he never liked to discuss the past before he became the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. Whatever happened to him back then was between him and his bro. 

“If I have'ta go,” he muttered, “I better not get this poor kid thrown out.” An obtrusive cheese smell wrinkled his nose. He shut the door behind him and went back into the hallway.

Remember that cat from earlier? It stalked him to the bathroom. Maybe it had been hungry? He could relate. Who _didn’t_ love a midnight snack? He never _could_ resist the wander to the fridge in pitch-black darkness. But there was no way he would be feeding it after it tripped him. 

He yelped and flung his arms out as he went flying over the cat. It wasn’t his palms that found the floor first. His head did. 

The cat yowled as he landed on top of it. When he settled on the floor, it shoveled its way out from under his arm and hissed... 

... 

... 

_…?_

* * *

Bile built up in my throat. I cringed when my swallow rolled over it. _God,_ it tasted awful. I trembled and fell to my knees when I tried to stand against the wall. I gasped upon landing on my left leg in a strange, pressuring way.

Overpowering dizziness overtook me. I sank back to the floor holding my head. Why did I feel sick? It was _way_ too early for me to go through that time of the month. But if that was my answer, why did it come in the form of a hot flash? The worse I experienced when it came to those times was a stomachache.

I got down on all fours and heaved my body across the floor. The sickness in my throat threatened to spill out. My chest muscles constricted when I spotted the shiny white body of something familiar. I don't know how I ended up downstairs, but I didn't care. I threw my head in the hole in the middle of the bathroom toilet and let the contents of my stomach loose. 

Every little part of me trembled. I grasped the sides of the bathroom toilet as tight as I could. My problems never seemed to end, did they? Today had never been my day. 

A thump sounded to my right. I wondered what it was, but then a warm stream of… _Grossness_ came out with a heaving cough. 

_...Urgh._

"Are you…?" a voice asked. 

If I could say anything, the answer to their question would have been a ninety-nine point nine percent _no._ The last point one percent of me felt glad I could get this junk out of my system. 

Something slipped into my lap. "Use this when you're ready," the voice said. "I'll flush for you."

"Th-thanks," I whimpered. I took the bundle into my arms and scrubbed my face through its rough exterior.

"Mh-hm!" 

I tilted my ear. The high-pitched voice ringing in it sounded strangely familiar. It was especially apparent with the confirmation noise they made. 

"Could you get rid of it?" I asked. _"Please?"_

_Fwoosh!_

My shoulders relaxed when I heard the toilet drain and gurgle. I breathed into the towel. My nose scrunched up from remnants of puke getting their ugly smell in it. I didn't pull away, however. 

"Do you hav'ta do that again?" the voice asked. 

"Maybe," I said. "...Maybe not. I don't know. Give me a minute." 

It took longer than a minute for me to regain a sense of composure. I could almost feel the time slipping by. 

The sickness retreated from my throat. I pushed away from the toilet and let the towel fall into my lap. 

"There goes dinner," I sighed. 

The voice chuckled. "Oh well."

My face flushed. I turned to face the one who helped me. 

A man stood to the side. He smiled under his scruffy mustache and offered me his pure white, no _gloved,_ hand. 

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked. "Want me to help you up?" 

I pulled back and took in more of his appearance. A strangely-shaped cowlick topped his brown hair. His giant blue pupils blinked at me. I drifted to the bright blue overalls he wore over a just as bright red shirt and felt my heart almost stop. 

I recoiled from him. He could have been around my height, maybe less. I wouldn't know unless I got up. I felt the strong urge to _not_ find that out. 

He smiled at me still, although it faltered the more we watched one another. 

"You're…" I wanted to speak. I couldn't. "Yo-you're…" 

The man nodded. "It'sa me," he said, "Mario!" 

Could anyone blame me for turning back around and unleashing another load of bile in the toilet? 

* * *

"Remember, take it slow."

I nodded and leaned into the man next to me. "Ri-right…" 

We stumbled down the hallway and back to the front of the house. His hand steadied me when we reached the staircase leading to my room. 

A shiver wracked its way through me. "I needed to sit down," I said. "Please?" 

He nodded and helped me sit down on the steps. He settled down next to me clutching the red hat I wore on my head until a spill in the hallway sent it toppling off. 

"Feeling any better?" he asked. 

A dull feeling filled my throat and stomach. I hugged my chest. "I guess," I said. 

"'I guess?'" he echoed. 

I didn't reply. 

The man dug into one of his overall's pockets. "Hm…" he mumbled. He started pulling a random collection of items from it. There was a pack of playing cards labeled with a rainbow of mushrooms, a bottle of water, a ball of string, a tiny booklet…

I scanned through each of the items. I could overlook the ball of string, but how the hell did he fit _a bottle of water_ in his overalls? 

"How?" I said. 

"How what?" he said. 

"How are you storing all of that in there?" I said.

“Enchanted pockets,” he said as if it were that simple. He took out a red object littered with white spots. “Here we go!” 

I took it from him and squished the dry bottom of a small red and tan mushroom. A _Mario_ super mushroom? 

“Trust me,” he said. “You’ll feel better after eating it.” He took the ball of string. His brow creased. 

I turned it over and glimpsed a pair of black dots. They looked like eyes. It made it seem alive yet… It couldn’t be. People from Mario's homeland ate these all the time.

“Okay,” I said, bringing it to my mouth, “I guess—” 

“Wait!” 

My teeth grazed over the 'shroom. I looked over at the man and his gigantic nose. “What?” I asked. 

He smiled. “You gotta eat it from the bottom.” 

“Why?” 

“It tastes better.”

I looked into mushroom’s “eyes” again. 

“Don’t worry about those,” Super Mario said. “They aren’t sentient.” 

I glanced at him. 

The plumber nodded. 

So I went ahead and sank my teeth into the bottom of my midnight snack. It bounced around my tongue, stimulating my taste buds with sweetness. 

“Good?” Mario asked. 

Yeah, it was. It reminded me of a cookie. It tasted like a chocolate chip with a hint of mint. I swallowed the piece.

His face brightened. “Great! Feel any better?” 

I frowned. I gazed up the staircase. 

My jaw dropped. I blinked once, only for my eye to get a peculiar twitch in it. I rubbed it and took in the big white door lying across the flight connecting the foyer to my attic bedroom. 

Mario shrank from the stare I threw his way. “That’s…” he said, “A long story.”

My glance deepened into a glare _._ That door was my sole barrier against the outside world. If I had to go on without it… _Who_ in their right mind lets people barge into their bedroom uninvited? I _needed_ my privacy! _Everyone_ needed their privacy! 

I growled in my throat. "What happened here?"

Mario hung his head. “I should tell you how you ended up in the bathroom,” he said. “Your door got kicked off its hinges. It's my fault. I-I’m sorry.” 

Yeah, that would make sense. What the hell did he do? Run at it like a chargin’ chuck? 

"You see…” he said.

* * *

My heart jumped. I hugged my shoulders. It made me feel safer to have my limbs closer to me. 

“You _possessed_ me?!” I almost shouted.

He sank into his knees. _Good._ No matter who he was, he should be afraid. If I didn’t care for my well-being, I would have kicked his ass back to the Mushroom Kingdom. That bastard took away something sacred to me and would _pay._

“Please,” Mario said, “it wasn’t my fault. I woke up in your body!” 

“You invaded my privacy, made my dad think I’m a lunatic, you’re _real—”_ I shook my head. Him? Real? Please. What if this whole day had been a dream in my head? Sure, I didn’t like my life. And sure, maybe I could stand to take charge of it after all of these years under my dad’s roof. _This_ couldn’t be the way my fantasies played out. I would prefer sweating to death in Hawaii to strangling an Italian plumber. And at least I was interested in that alternate universe. I stopped playing the majority of Mario’s games a while ago to expand my horizons.

“Of course I’m real,” Mario said. “It’sa me!” 

“Say your catchphrase again,” I said, “and I’ll puke on your shoes.” 

His shoulders sank. “Mama mia…” 

“Say _that_ again,” I hissed, “and I’ll throw you out of my house.”

He tilted his head. Tch. What was he trying to do? Act all innocent to win my sympathy? 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

Yep. He was pulling an act. 

I folded my arms. “You heard me, plumber.” 

“Are you alright?”

I wanted to grab him by the shoulders. I wanted to yell at his face, _‘No, I’m not. Look at what you did!’_ I wanted to do _something, anything_ to grab his attention. Thanks to him, nothing could impede the world from marching in and overtaking my haven. 

My fist shook. I slammed it into my kneecap. The blow stung, but I ignored it and got to my feet. I squashed my snack between my fingers. It blew up under the pressure of my palm in a balloon-like fashion and broke apart.

“I’m going to bed,” I said. “I’m going to punch a pillow to death, and I’m going to bed.” 

I got up. I climbed the steps up to my room. I didn’t feel bad anymore, so I had _one_ good thing going for me at least. 

“Sam?” Mario said. 

I groaned. Couldn’t he just go away? “God, let me wake up from this nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare,” he said. “I’m here.”

“Yes, it is,” I said. “You’re a fictional character from a series of video games. You don’t exist.” 

“I’m what?” 

“Do you know who Sonic the Hedgehog is?” I asked. 

He frowned at me. “Who’s Sonic?” 

“Do you know who Link is? Or Samus Aran? Or Kirby? _Pit?”_

His frown deepened. “I don’t know who you’re talking about?” 

I shoved my head in my hands. This dream got weirder by the minute. How could Mario, of all people, _not_ know some of video gaming’s other famous characters? This was so stupid, but why wasn’t I waking up in my bed? Heck, the whole incident with the hat might have been an extension of the dream, and dream logic distorted the time between it and my meeting with Mario... 

I sounded like a conspiracy theorist. _Gross._

“Jesus,” I said.

Mario popped up at my side. “Uh, what?” he said.

I glared at him. “Nothing. Go away.” 

Having said that, I went up the stairs and to the fallen door. I bent over it. My hands slid underneath and I hauled it up. My thin arm muscles throbbed, but I continued pushing until I got it shoved against the wall. 

“What’re you doing?” Mario said. 

“Go away,” I said. 

“You’re going to put that back where that used to be?” he said. “I don’t think it's that simple.”

“Shut up.” 

“Sam, leave it alone. You’ll be okay tonight.” 

My head whirled over my shoulder. “I said, _‘Shut up!’”_

He wilted. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said. “You want me to help put it back in place?” 

I shook my head. Yeah, no thanks. He had already proven I couldn’t put my trust in him. 

“Sammy?” 

My heart must have skipped a beat when a new voice entered our conversation. I turned around. 

My dad glared at us from the bottom of the steps. 

“Oh,” Mario said. “Hi!” He relaxed. “Sorry for waking you up again. I can explain!” 

Dad ignored him. “What is going on?” 

I rolled my eyes to Mario. “I, um, well, uh…” How exactly would somebody explain the short Italian guy? _‘Oh hey, Dad. Look at who I just met. Can we “kindly” throw him out?’_

He seemed as dumbfounded as me. “We, uh…” He looked between Dad and me. 

_“I_ can explain what’s going on,” I said. 

Dad made his way up the stairs until his height allowed us to see eye-to-eye. 

Mario, meanwhile, moved up a step. “I didn’t do anything to your daughter. She was getting excited and I was trying to help her. She’s making a big deal about this door…” 

Dad ignored him. He leaned into me. 

I swallowed. 

His eyes had sunk in from what I assumed to be a lack of sleep. If the annoyance contained in them could burn, I would be rolling around on the floor head-to-toe in flames. “Go,” he said, “to bed. It’s too late for you to be yelling your head off.” 

I gaped at him. “Ye-yes…” I answered. 

He moved away from me. “Good night.” He spun around and stormed away. His footsteps faded into the hallway back to his room. 

I turned back around to my fallen door and let it go. It thumped to the ground. “This,” I muttered, “is going to suck.” 

* * *

My reaction after being yelled at was to go straight to bed. Sure, the heat of my anger still burned in my bones. But I needed sleep, and I needed it bad. 

Mario took a hint and fled to my living room to steal our couch for the night. Thank whoever was out there, if there was anyone to listen at all. I had had enough of this awful dream. 

“Night,” I said to myself, digging under my sheets. A shiver went down my spine. I glanced one last time at my open doorway before laying down.

An unfamiliar object squished between the pillow and my head yet again. I rolled over and yanked it off. Grasping the rough fabric in my dry hand gave me a pause. This couldn’t be my reality. If this wasn’t a dream, maybe I was half-asleep. Dad never acknowledged Mario’s existence. It was proof enough that I had gone crazy. ...Or maybe I had to keep better track of my monthly cycles and take mood swings into account.

Whatever the case, I was _so_ going to play _Pokémon Moon_ tomorrow. The _Super Mario_ series and I didn’t click as we used to.


	3. Sick Day, Part One

The alarm on my phone blared. My eyes opened. I cringed while my head throbbed as if someone was inside it pounding at its inner walls. I forced my way into a sitting position despite the pain.

My mind flashed back to last night. That whole thing with Mario must have been a dream. It had to be because I would never stand the idea of living without a door. But who meets Super Mario after getting sick? And who also gets harassed by a possessed hat? I couldn't ignore the brim of the giant cap on my head. 

I tore it off and moved to throw it to the doorway. A wave of nausea hit me upon twisting out of bed. I couldn't deny not feeling well. If Mario told me was true, the mushroom should have helped me recover. My pain was proof enough he hadn't been real. 

I needed to get ready for school. I had tests to take later today. Not to mention that my perfect attendance, which Dad seemed to care about, would be ruined if I didn't show up. Worst of all, I wouldn't know the homework for this weekend. 

I pivoted my legs over the bed. My head throbbed. There was aspirin in the bathroom. I saw a few packets lying around in the cabinet the other day. Those were bound to help me. 

Then I stood, shaking from the immediate change in weight. I clung to a bedpost. More queasiness came over me. I stayed leaning against my bed until the wave died down. 

I let go and made my way toward the stairs. My legs buckled. I reached for the bedpost wobbling on shaky feet. 

The next thing I knew, I thudded to the floor butt-first. I got back to my wobbly knees, only to have the nausea win once again. My elbows slammed into floorboards. 

The stairs creaked. A short, chubby guy rushed in. I recognized him in an instant. Who wouldn't remember the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom and Nintendo's mascot, Mario? 

We both paused to stare at one another. 

I got into a seating position. _"You,"_ I said, not bothering to mask my venom.

He came over. The worry in his expression softened. "Are you okay?" he asked. 

I attempted to stand a third time. 

He kneeled and tossed my arm over his back. "You're as red as a tomato," he said. 

"I have to go to school," I said. 

"I'm thinking you shouldn't," Mario said. "You've fallen twice already." 

"I _need_ to go," I said.

His expression soured. "No," he said, "not if you're gonna be flopping all over the place. You should get more sleep." 

"I just woke up," I muttered. 

He shook his head. "You need more," he said, picking me off the floor. He steered me back to my mattress. 

I grabbed my phone. _6:05._ "I'm going," I said. "Just watch." 

Mario walked to the stairs. He uttered an unmistakable, "Mama mia." 

I sank into my sheets. So much for being a student with perfect attendance. There would be no bonus in my grades at the end of the semester. Neither would I be able to take those tests or know when my astronomy project was due.

Unlike other colleges in my area, the one I went to didn't have a website to get information from. Last I heard, they were working on one, but there were numerous delays thanks to the plan having opposers. Which, frankly, was bullcrap.

* * *

I laid in bed for the next while. Sometimes I checked the time on my phone. Most of the time, I would find it had only been five minutes. Then I would put it down and dig into my sheets. The public bus would have come in an hour and a half had I gotten ready starting from six.

As the clock hit seven, I lost hope of shaking off my sickness and catching my ride. A few of the rising sun's rays snuck in past my windows dark curtains. I wouldn't have opened them even if I could stand. I didn't want to blind myself. 

Knocking. I turned my head. 

The short man from earlier stood in the doorway. He pulled his fist from the wall. 

"What now?" I grumbled, still feeling naked without my bedroom door. 

"The TV said a bunch of schools are canceled," he said, smiling when I perked up. "What's the one you go to?" 

"Havenland Community College," I said. 

He rubbed his chin. "Come to think of it, that might've been one of them on the list." 

I stared at him in disbelief. It sounded too good to be true. How could there be no school for the second day in a row? Did another snowstorm I wasn't aware of blow through? 

"Is my dad here?" I said. 

"I haven't seen him," Mario said.

Good. I didn't want to be yelled at this morning. Maybe he made it to his job regardless of what happened out there. 

"Now what?" I asked, staring into the wooden beams making up my ceiling.

"Do you feel alright?" Mario said. 

"My head still hurts," I said. 

"Maybe you should go back to bed."

"No." 

He thought. "Then what about I help you downstairs in a bit? I hope you don't mind me making eggs for breakfast." 

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." 

"I could cook you some," he said. "To make up for last night?" 

I _guess_ he could do something to help me out. "As long as it's just eggs," I said. "I'm sick of toast. If I have _one more loaf,_ I will puke again." 

Mario shuddered. That hadn't been a pretty experience for either of us. "Alright," he said, getting back on his feet. "I'll come back when it's ready. Deal?" 

"Fine, sure." 

With that, he left my room. 

Warm air from my exhale hit my hands. It seemed strange how I had called that man out for having a bland personality and now he was in my life. He didn't come across as a cardboard cut-out.

It would be cool if Luigi were here instead of him. How would have this situation played out if I met him instead? Would he have made me stay here? Would he have helped me even after seeing what I puked up? Perhaps I would never know. 

* * *

When Mario returned, he allowed me to lean on him until we reached the kitchen downstairs. He did, although, grumble somewhat on our way there. Not my fault if be was short enough for me to use his head as an armrest.

He rushed over to the stove and hopped on a chair there once I sat at the kitchen table.

"You left the fridge open," I said. 

Mario rubbed the back of his yet again hatless head. "Maybe I got too excited when I found the eggs," he said. 

I took off his hat, which had found its way back to me again. "My dad doesn't go grocery shopping all that often. He only brings home the things we need."

He twirled the spatula in his hand around before plunging it into the pan. He frowned at me. "How do you live like that?" he asked. "Don't you have some snacks lying around?" 

"You didn't see last night's leftovers in the fridge?" I said. "How many eggs are you using up?" 

"A few," he said. His eyes shifted. He put the spatula down. "You want me to make more?" 

I realized he was focusing on his hat. I took it off. "No?"

Mario morphed into a red blur. His hat left my hands. He plopped it over his messy brown hair. 

My chair screeched against the floor. "Okay," I shouted, _"aggressive much?"_

Mario fixed his hat. He wore a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he said. 

A sharp smell entered my nose. Smoke rose from the stove. Flames consumed the sides of the frying pan. 

"Uh, Mar?" I shouted. "The eggs are on fire!" 

"Mar?" Aside from his mouth opening to speak, he didn't move.

I attempted to stand. My queasiness came back. It was determined to keep me down and out. 

"Turn around!" I said. 

He did so, and he gasped. "I was sure I lowered the flame!" He rushed to the stove, coughing up a storm as he inhaled the smoke.

That was worthy of a facepalm from me. I watched between a small gap in my fingers as he fiddled with the various knobs on the stove. 

A little fan over the stove whirred to life. Mario clambered back to solid ground. 

I pulled my hand down. 

"Luigi's better at cooking," he murmured. "Guess I'll use the toaster oven next time." 

"Is the food okay?" I said. 

"Everything's fine," Mario said. "I'll eat the burnt chunks." Yet I could see his grin falter under his cheerful attitude. 

* * *

Mario came back to the table with three plates. Two empty ones were set before his seat and mine. He put the third one, which held the scrambled eggs, between us. As it turned out, he told a fib and got carried away making breakfast. There was an empty carton in the trash now.

I picked at the large platter with my fork. Having the carton go missing probably wouldn't matter to Dad. He never liked eating them. To him, they were ingredients to be used in other foods.

Marko frowned at his burnt food. He took a nearby ketchup bottle and doused them in it. 

We ate quietly for a time. I focused on polishing off my share. 

"I've been thinking about last night." 

"Yeah?" I said 

"Remember how you told me I have no way home?" Mario said. "If there was a pipe that brought me to your world, there's gotta be another one that can take me back." 

"Guess you have a point?" I said. How could I be so sure when yesterday had been the first time I saw one in real life? 

Mario stood. I noticed a small pillow underneath him. It wasn't one of mine. Perhaps it came from his magical pockets. Whatever the case, he pointed at me. 

"That's why _you_ gotta help me get back home," he said. 

I flinched. "Me?" 

"It'll be fun," he said, seemingly ignoring my reaction. "'Course, you've got stuff to do. I can wait while you've got stuff to do. But we'll havta go pipe hunting when you're finished." 

"Can't you look on your own?" I said, straightening against my seat. My composure returned. "I don't have the faintest idea where your warp pipes could be, and I never said anything about _helping_ you with _anything._ Didn't I make it clear you're not exactly welcome here?" 

He was on a roll. "We'll be searching in secluded areas, like forests or the sewers. That's usually where they're hidden—" 

"You want me to walk in _sewage?"_ I cut in. "I've done enough throwing up for a week— No, year, thank you very much—" 

He cut me off. "I gotta get home. Everybody has to be worrying about me, especially Luigi—" 

I interrupted him— Forget it. Anyone could see where this was going. "Can't Super Mario do this by himself? I never asked to dragged into your problems." I tore his hat off my head again as I finished speaking. 

"Come to think about it, I don't know what's causing that to happen," Mario said, sighing and shrugging. He took his hat back from me. "So are you gonna help me or what?" 

I ate the rest of my eggs. Go adventuring with this guy? Here? People would think I'm crazy for running around with an overexcited short guy. 

…No, wouldn't that make me popular? He was Nintendo's mascot! 

…No, no, _no._ This idea of his was stupid. He didn't know where to find any warp pipes. We could be aimlessly searching for a way back to his home for a long time. 

_Oh, forget you!_ a part of my mind shouted at the other. 

I came back to reality with a white glove waving in my face. "Hello? Mushroom Kingdom to Sam." 

I turned to my left. 

"You're still awake," Mario said. "That's good." He stacked my finished plate over his own. 

"Thanks," I said. _I suppose._

He went to the sink and dropped the dishes in. "No problem," he replied. "Was the food okay? You can see I'm not the best cook." 

I used my chair to prop me up. "It was fine." 

His eyebrow rose when he saw me upright. He decided to focus on the sink. "I was thinking," he said, "if I could see that door of yours." 

I gasped. "Re-really?" I nearly slapped myself for the slip-up. Yeah, sure, regaining that sense of privacy would be amazing. It didn't warrant a reaction like _that._ "How would you fix it? Wouldn't you need tools?" 

Mario reached into his pocket. A stick materialized. It grew in size until he plopped its heavier side on the ground. 

My eyes widened. His pockets _were_ enchanted. And wasn't that mallet from the _Mario and Luigi_ games? The series had always had a loose canon. Did the mallet mean those games did happen? It had to be because I used to love playing them, even if I didn't get far in. Like— 

_This isn't a good time to be fangirling,_ I reminded myself. I focused on the conversation at hand. "That's a big mallet," I said. "Don't break the actual door next." 

"Trust me," Mario said, "I've got this. You focus on getting better." He finished soaking the dishes and turned off the sink. "Don't forget we're hunting for a pipe soon." 

Wait, what? No! "I didn't agree to that," I growled, "you son of a—" 

A car horn blared in the distance. 

"Wasn't _that_ appropriate?" I said, deflating. 

"There's been this gap in my memory," Mario said. 

"Amnesia, you mean?" I said, rolling my eyes. 

"Guess so," he said. "I have no idea how I ended up here. I'm not as worried about Luigi as I am for the princess. My bro's proven he can handle being on his own. There was this whole thing with Peach a while back. What if—" Mario stopped suddenly. "Do you, uh, understand what I'm saying?" 

"Are you talking about the time you traveled the globe to save the princess?" I said. "Then yes. I'm guessing you want to get home to protect her?" 

"Exactly," he said. "Can I have your help now?" 

I folded my arms. 

"Please?" he asked, his sky-blue eyes softening. "You gotta help the stranded guy!" 

I directly met his gaze. Any tension I held before seemed to fade. Even for someone as reluctant to help others like me, I guess I couldn't watch others beg. 

I drooped. Damn it, he pissed me off at first, but now he appealed to some buried part of mine. "Fine," I said, "I'll help you— _What the hell?"_

Mario hugged me. Or maybe he grabbed me so I wouldn't fall over. 

I squeaked at him squeezing me. That _was_ a hug. 

"Thank you," Mario cried. "You're not gonna regret this, Sam. It'll be fun!" 

* * *

I fled the kitchen after my talk with Mario. Or, you know, I tried to. He had to help me walk into the living room. The TV there played a cartoon channel. 

Scratch that. It was a kiddie channel. The pink bunny on-screen hopped away from the title of the show, which dropped down completely once it left. 

_"Fluffy Bunny?"_ I said. "Seriously?" 

Mario picked up the remote. 

"How old are you?" I said. "Twenty-something?" Last I checked, Nintendo said he was between twenty-four and twenty-six. I always found it odd given the way he presented himself. His mustache made him seem a whole two decades older. 

"I left the TV on this channel by accident," he said. "Sorry." 

"Could you put the channel eight news on?" I said. 

A moment of him fiddling with the remote later… 

My county's local weatherman, Jake Greenburrow, appeared on the screen. He was a man around my dad's age who usually dressed in suits with grey ties. They happened to know each other due to Dad's work in astronomy, but I never met Jake personally. I didn't care to. I didn't care for celebrities no matter how minor they were.

"You see," Jake said, gesturing at a traffic map behind him, "the roads are still slippery. I cannot stress enough about how dangerous this can be…" 

Mario leaned back in his seat. "I'm not driving."

"My dad is," I said, looking out the window. I could see one of my neighbors shoveling her driveway from here. Other than that, the white snow had barely been touched by cars and human feet. 

"He'll be fine," he said. 

I nodded and settled into my seat. I laid my head down on the armrest.

The time on the cable box hit 7:30. The news moved on to another segment. 

The bus driver should have been here by now. That, or he would long gone by now. Everyone on his route complained of how he never gave them enough time to get to the bus before flew off into the wintertime sunrise. 

Last year, we had college students and some older folks who used the system to get around town petitioning to fire him. Their pleas weren't heard by the school board or bus company. I guess they both fine with keeping around a guy who blew past our street's stop sign five times a week. 

"Will they show the closing again?" I said. "I should double-check the list." 

"What was it again?" Mario said.

"Havenland Community College," I said. "Let's hope they bring up the list again—" 

A car horn went off some five or six times in rapid succession. My ears buzzed, and I spun right around.

Right in front of my house was a shiny white bus. A pair of boys ran toward it from a nearby house. 

I leaped off my couch. _"What?!"_ There were no other busses from the local schools or the bus company that came this way, nor were they as obnoxious as the one my usual driver drove. That bus was unmistakably _mine,_ and here I was hanging around in pajamas! 

My glare fell upon Mario. 

"You lied to me," I hissed. "I should be going back today." 

He kept direct eye contact with me. "Sam, I thought I saw—" 

"Shut up!" I yelled back. 

The bus' horn rattled my eardrums. It echoed around in my head. I watched the scene in disbelief. Outrage coursed in my veins, keeping me upright even through my pounding headache. 

"I'm going kill you," I growled. "I swear…" _Wow._ Go me for making a death threat toward a jolly plumber. That will get you places, right?

My legs crumpled beneath me. I reached for the armrest to steady myself. It didn't help. My hand slipped from the couch. 

I heard a gasp. A pair of hands caught me before I hit the ground. I felt them readjust my sideways neck. 

Mad at him as I was, Mario saved me from collapsing again. But my consciousness faded before I could comment on it…


End file.
